


seigfried

by softandonly



Category: The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i was listening to frank, it kinda just popped into my head, or always been there but takes a while to realize romance, seigfried, this will be a series, whew i love frank ocean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:11:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softandonly/pseuds/softandonly
Summary: "two kids and a swimming pool, i'm not brave." for once things feel calm for theodore decker. he feels stable, but a certain dark haired boy from his past decides to creep into his dreams and make him wonder.





	seigfried

The markings on your surface, your speckled face  
Flawed crystals hang from your ears  
I couldn’t gauge your fears  
I cant relate to my peers

I had grown to appreciate the New York traffic again. Not love (it was far too boisterous; I hadn’t even loved it during my childhood), but a liking to a certain degree. It brought a strange sense of comfort; the whirring of cars and buses driving by, the watery chatter of people; different sorts of people awake through the night, getting to wherever they had to be. I often wondered about it. Maybe drunk college kids staggering back to their dorms, tourist families, or people buying Tylenol from the 24-hour walgreens around the corner. The startling presence of life in this noisy, ugly industrial mess that was New York City was what gave me some sort of peace. A loud and raw humanness that kept me alert.

I took a shaky drag from my cigarette and exhaled out into the cold November air. The metal rod of Kitsey’s unstable balcony creaked loudly as I stood with my elbows propped up on both sides.

You and your nightmares, Kitsey drawled into my ear on one of these nights, one night of many routine-like nightmares resulting in the need for a drink or a smoke or watching CNN or whatever could get my mind somewhere else. Baby, maybe you should consider a sleep therapist, yeah? 

It was the same nightmare each time ; my mother laying limp on the museum floor, her black braid nearly undone with strands stuck to her face. She was covered in rubble and debris and I was a meek thirteen year old again, screaming, flailing from across the room. 

Each time I had this dream I tried to change the outcome, but I was never able to get to her. I’ve heard that in dreams people often become immobile, for me that was true. I’d force myself (or my subconscious mind forces itself, rather) to push through the ruins, to run quickly as the fire grows. It never happened. My eyes would shoot open before I can see what happens of my beautiful mother, and I sit up in bed, panting wildly and running a free hand through my hair. 

Tonight, it was a different dream.

Boris and I, fifteen again, lying on our backs in the sandbox at the abandoned playground we used to stumble around at. he lifted his sand-covered head of dark curls and smiled at me, slow and wide, that dumb expression he got. His face looked horrific; lip busted and cracked open with dried blood, left eye a swollen blackish-purple. He looked so fragile and beat-up that his casual goofy grin disturbed me, his yellow buck-teeth smile exposed with glee.

“You didn’t fall.”, I murmured.

“Eh?”, he asked, sounding baffled.

“Your eye. Your dad hit you again, didn’t he? You lied to Kotku earlier.” She had asked Boris what happened to his face while we were eating peanut butter sandwiches – all Xandra seemed to have stocked in the pantry was peanut butter and bread– on the carpeted floor of the living room. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

He smiled sheepishly and looked up at the sky, avoiding my eyes. “Dunno. She doesn’t care, does she?”

I blinked back at him.

“Does she, Potter?”, He laughed, now. A loud, bitter one. “I mean, fuck, is ok, she gives me head, right? Must count for something.”

His voice lowered and a mischievous glint flashed in his eyes. “Well, you give me head, too, no?”

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this probably wasn't too good. i just typed it up on a whim while listening to frank. i'm not gifted. but i love this pairing and i love the goldfinch, it holds such a special place in my heart. let me know what you think!! <3 
> 
> also, this is going to be a series. the end of this chapter might seem a bit awkward, but i have plans for the story to pick up. i hope it goes well!
> 
> thank u,
> 
> sasha


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